Pressure
by R.M.Weiss
Summary: A dirty past is laid bare, a man's secrets brought into the open. The pressure is on and Sakano is going to have to make some tough choices. Tohma/Sakano and K/Sakano. Warning: M/M
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own ****Gravitation****; I make no profit from this story.**

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Pressure

by R. M. Weiss

Chapter 1:

He flicked on the light to the living room of his small apartment from outside his door, having only opened it enough to slip his hand through and feel for the switch. Tie hanging loose about his neck, the black haired man let out a heavy sigh as he toed off his polished black shoes. At the age of twenty-nine, Sakano was starting to feel the heavy weight of responsibility taking its toll on him.

Coming home to an empty house was never easy lately. He would rather be at the studio now, maybe getting an energy drink from the vending machine down the hall from the recording studio, or getting another bouquet of flowers to put in Tohma's office to lighten it up.

He knew the flowers really didn't do much for the professional atmosphere in the room, but he liked to think that perhaps they brought the president some cheer. It wasn't as if he didn't pick flowers out at random. Every week on Monday morning Sakano would get up and head to the little florist shop not far from his apartment and purchase a carefully made-up bouquet that held a mass of flowers that held a type of meaning in the language of flowers. Last week he had brought in camellias. [1)

Heating up last nights leftovers, the producer watched the plastic container of food spin round-and-round on the plate inside the microwave, taking the time remaining for it to heat up to think. Today had been eventful, to say the least. Shuichi had come in late, though that was nothing new. Suguru had, as usual, ranted for twenty minutes about Shuichi's "lack of dedication" to Bad Luck, the teen having finally snapped after going through a grueling week of mid-term testing at school. Sakano hadn't known exactly what Hiro said when he came in the door to witness the spectacle, but it quickly quieted the keyboardist down to the point he was only silently fuming and muttering to himself while he went about starting up his synthesizer.

The peace had lasted until around noon. During their lunch break Hiro had excused himself only to be discovered a couple minutes later in the men's bathroom leaning over the sink, suffering from food-poisoning.

Sakano thought that would have been the end of their day, but the guitar player had insisted he wanted to continue and with in twenty minutes was back in the studio. This hadn't sat well with Shuichi, who refused to sing and insisted that Hiro go home and rest. Strangely enough Suguru agreed, and his confirmation of Shuichi's orders set the guitarist off on a tangent of his own. The three musicians had bickered until Hiro had to run to the bathroom once more, which caused Shuichi and Suguru to argue over who would go check on him, the two of them trying to push and shove each other out of the way to get to Hiro first.

Sakano had been dragged into the spat when Suguru demanded that be allowed to go check on Hiroshi. Shuichi had gotten suspicious almost instantly, and had started nagging the younger teen on why he was so keen to be the one to get to Hiro first. When the keyboard-playing prodigy retorted with a sharp "mind your own business", Shuichi seemed to fit the pieces together in his head and jumped on the grumpy teen, teasing him about having a crush on Hiro. That was all it had taken for Suguru to crumble and try and escape the room, which only prompted Shuichi to give him another good-natured teasing.

In the six hours they spent in the recording studio, nothing had gotten done, and by the end of the day, Sakano had been so exhausted from mediating between the three band mates and trying to get them to focus on either going home and resting for a day or at least doing a rough copy of a new single that he had nearly cried with joy when K had broken them up around four and sent everyone home, the American having come in late due to personal issues.

However, Sakano's day hadn't ended with the members of Bad Luck going home. He had stayed for another seven and a half-hours sorting out things that still needed to be done, as well as running errands for the president. When he left N-G Records his car had refused to start, and with his wallet left at home by accident he had been forced to trek four blocks in the pouring rain to find an ATM to get money for bus fare.

Letting out a heavy sigh, brown eyes closed wearily as he opened the microwave and took out his dinner, wincing at the heat that instantly burned his fingers. Dropping the container on the table, the producer found another thing to add to today's list of Bad Events.

Stabbing at the warmed eel meat, he pushed it around the container. He wasn't in much of a mood to eat. Lately his appetite was almost nonexistent. He had originally been a healthy one hundred and thirty-six pounds, but after two hard weeks at work attempting to help K whip Bad Luck into shape for an upcoming single release and TV show appearance he had dropped down to one hundred and twenty pounds, an unhealthy pallor to his skin making itself known.

Dumping the rest of his dinner in the trash, the black haired man shuffled off towards the shower. Shivering when the cool water hit his skin, he raked his hands through his hair, holding it back and out of his eyes, only to realize that for the fifth time this week he had forgotten to take his glasses off. Fumbling with the slippery frames he heaved another sigh as they clattered to the shower floor. Stooping down to grope around blindly for the lenses, the man yelped when he gave a start at the sound of his doorbell.

"C-Coming!" he called, quickly shutting the shower off and pulling his bathrobe, tying it tightly around his waist.

Still dripping wet from his shower, he winced each time the person at the door continued to hit the bell. He wasn't sure how they had gotten into the building without him buzzing them in, and a knot of uneasiness settled in his stomach as he flipped the cover off the peephole in his door.

Outside, a blonde, gun-toting American rocked back on his heels as he waited patiently for the dark haired man to open the door.

Surprised to see the blurry outline of his co-worker, Sakano hurriedly undid the locks on his door and flung it open. '_Did something happen to the president? Is Shuichi-kun missing? Has N-G burned to the ground because of that crazy woman with the giant panda?_' he thought with dawning horror as his mind played out the worst case scenarios. "K-san, is everything alright?"

"Hm? What happened to you? Did you walk home in the rain?" the blond replied, brushing past the anxious other man and inviting himself inside.

"Sh-Shoes!" Sakano stuttered after a second.

"Oh...Right…"

Brushing his damn hair out of his eyes, Sakano squinted carefully at K, trying to read the other's body language. If something had happened the American would have said so already. Wouldn't he?

"Ano….K-san, why are you here? Is everyone alright? Did Nakano-kun get home okay?"

Slipping into a set of extra slippers left to the side, K took his time making sure his shoes were properly stowed away. "He's fine. Shuichi called me an hour ago to let me know he's not coming in tomorrow. He thinks a day off for everyone will do us all some good."

Sakano slumped back against the door in relief. "O-Oh….but what about the single?"

"You got any sake around here?"

Opening his eyes, the producer quickly followed after the blond who had discovered his small kitchen. "It's on the first shelf in the fridge….Ano...K-san, you didn't answer my other question yet."

The blond popped the cork on the sake bottle and set it on the table before rummaging around through cabinets looking for cups. "You know, you have everything in alphabetical order and grouped by color…"

"I know I do! Now will you please answer my question?" the Japanese man replied, instantly regretting snapping. It wasn't like him to do so, but it was late and he was tired, and he still hadn't finished his shower. "Did something ha—"

"She left me."

"Come again?"

Picking up the sake and pouring himself a cup, K downed it in one long gulp. "My wife, Judy, she left me."

"I'm sorry…." Sakano murmured.

Shrugging, K sniffed and poured himself another cup, "Don't be. It's not your fault. I'm sorry I barged in here. Didn't mean to disrupt your night. I just….I couldn't think of anyone who would even open the door. I guess I could have forced Shuichi to open the door but...well let's say Yuki-san and I don't get along so well."

The producer politely averted his eyes when he noticed the American using the side of his hand to wipe away tears, trying to make it look like he was just itching the corners of his eyes.

"I shouldn't keep you up. You have to meet Seguchi tomorrow. I'll let myself out."

Without thinking, Sakano reached out and gripped onto K's shoulder, preventing him from leaving, "Seguchi-san is taking a personal day tomorrow….And we don't have work."

"Are you asking me to stay?"

Surprised by the bluntness of the tall man, the brunette cleared his throat and pulled his hand back, fiddling with his bathrobe and pulling it closed a bit more. "I….Well….It's still raining."

K's lips quirked in a ghost of his usual smile, "You wouldn't mind?"

Shaking his head, the producer rubbed the back of his neck, "No. It's fine. I don't get a lot of company."

"Where can I sleep?"

"The couch pulls out…I'll get you some blankets and pillows."

Nodding, K put the sake back in the refrigerator and the cup in the sink. "Thanks."

Sakano murmured a half-stuttered reply and waved the American off towards the couch in the living room. Quickly returning to the bathroom he turned the shower on and rushed through conditioning his hair and retrieving his glasses.

Pulling on plain button down top and drawstring pants he padded out to the closet across the hall and took out a set of neatly folded sheets and a pillow.

"Did you get it open?"

Looking up from the soft mattress he currently had buried his face in, K got to his feet. "I might have to steel this mattress from you."

"It's not that good. Seguchi-san told me the best mattresses these days are those foam kinds." Tucking in the sheets, Sakano worked his way slowly around the pull-out.

"If you're into feeling like you're stuck in quicksand then I guess so."

"The one sacho has isn't like that."

Raising an eyebrow, K sat back down on the now made bed, "Didn't know you were into sleeping with the boss, Sakano."

Instantly feeling his cheeks flush, the Japanese man stuttered and dropped the pillow he was carrying. "W-What!? N-No! No you've got it all wrong! Seguchi-san just had me come along when he went bed hopping—I mean bed shopping!"

The American gave the other a Cheshire-cat grin and stifled a laugh. "Easy, Mr. Producer, I'm just teasing you."

Sakano picked up the pillow off the floor and handed it to K while he fought off the blush that colored his face. "I know."

"Then you didn't need to get so flustered."

"I'm just…tense, that's all. The last two weeks…."

"Have been hell?"

"Yes."

With a sigh K leaned back on his make-shift bed. "You could say that again….I think they were the final straw with Judy…."

"Final straw?"

Closing blue eyes, the blond tucked his arms under his head and let out a deep breath through his nose. "We're both busy people. The last two weeks was it…she had to fly to LA, I had to work with Bad Luck...She said she couldn't take it and she was leaving, I said fine. She packed her bags, grabbed Michael and left."

"I understand."

K's eyes opened, "What?"

"My parents divorced when I was ten, I know what it's like for a marriage to fall apart because I saw it happening," Sakano replied with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I know it…it hurt them both badly. They had their reasons."

"Did you forgive them?"

Turning to leave, Sakano shook his head slowly, "I never got the chance. They both died three weeks into filing for divorce. A car crash…….Ano….it's late, K-san. I'm going to go to bed. Please, make yourself at home."

K nodded hesitantly, "Right….Thank you…..and, I'm sorry for your loss."

Quickly striding to his room, Sakano closed the door quietly behind him and instantly went to his nightstand, digging through the top drawer until he found the right plastic prescription bottle. Popping the cap he quickly swallowed down two pills before chasing them down with another larger pill from a different bottle.

'_I shouldn't have come right out and said all that…I don't know him that well as it is…Oh well…I'll talk to him tomorrow about it…' _The thin man slipped slowly under the covers of his bed and pulled a pillow close to his body. '_Hopefully these pills will let me get a good night sleep…_'

Squeezing the pillow in his arms a bit tighter, the man closed his tired eyes and let sleep take hold of his mind. For the sixth time this week, he forgot to take his glasses off.

TBC…

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Thank you for reading the first chapter of Pressure. I'll be updating shortly, hopefully with a longer chapter. Until then sit back, relax, and make yourself comfortable because in a few chapters this story is going to go on one hell of a wild ride. 

[1) Camellia flowers symbolize admiration, perfection, and also are a good luck gift to a man


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to WAT2DO, Sarahfreak, and Antimatterannihilation.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own ****Gravitation****; I make no profit from this story.**

_As a note, there is a bit of text in here that is supposed to be an excerpt from a story. This excerpt was created by me; I claim all rights to it. It is not meant to resemble any other story or encroach on any copyrights. It came purely from my imagination with no outside influence. _

Again, thoughts are in Italics. (The excerpt is as well)

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Pressure

by R. M. Weiss

Chapter 2:

Shifting restlessly under the unfamiliar sheets, K rolled slowly over to the edge of the bed. He didn't know how long he had lain in the darkness of Sakano's living room, but he assumed enough time had passed that the producer would be asleep by now. Getting up quietly he glanced in the direction of the Japanese man's room before resting his full weight on the ground and standing.

He would not be able to sleep tonight. Too many things raced through his mind. Moving about the open room, K paused in front of a lone bookcase, fingers tracing the spines of books with titles he could barely read in the darkness. Moving his hands over the books he paused when he crouched down to feel the bottom shelf. There was a box.

_'What he doesn't know won't hurt him,_' the American thought, glancing over his shoulder once more towards where he assumed Sakano slept. Pulling the box off the shelf he carefully lowered it to the floor and pulled back the top.

Inside he could feel the edges of what he assumed to be a notebook. Picking it up, the blond moved away from the shadows of the bookcase and closer to the window on the far wall where moonlight streamed in through the drawn blinds. Able to see a little better now, the American found that he was holding a thick photo album.

Flipping back the heavy cover, K found himself looking down at an old picture a teenage boy with thick shoulder-length black hair and wide brown eyes. The boy was smiling, waving out at whatever audience he stood before as he gripped a microphone in his free hand.

'_Who is that?_' the American thought, peeling back the protective covering over the photo. Holding it up in the moonlight he turned it over and was only mildly surprised to see a neatly printed message across the back.

_Took this right when you began._

_You sang great tonight. I love you.  
P.S. Meet me outside N-G tomorrow. I have a surprise for you._

The words earned a raised eyebrow from K. Turning the picture around again his eyes peered at the face of the boy holding the microphone, lingering briefly on the people who he now noticed were stationed behind him with instruments. Slowly understanding dawned on him, and K stared even harder at the picture. '_Sakano...used to sing?_'

The American hesitantly put the picture away. He wondered if Tohma knew that Sakano had once been a singer. '_Maybe that's how they met...'_

A part of his mind nagged at him, the writing on the back of the picture stirring a long forgotten memory. Shaking his head as if to clear away his thoughts, K flipped to the next page of the album, instantly recognizing a young Tohma standing next to the same dark hair boy, who stood curled against the older teen's side shyly waving at the camera, as if nervous or tense, his usual stance when in the presence of the president of N-G. This teen was more like the Sakano the manager knew.

_'Seguchi didn't write that note, I've seen his handwriting,'_ K thought to himself, frowning as he looked down at the smiling teens. Going through a few more pages he began to notice another familiar face popping up. In every picture for the next four pages, Ryuichi Sakuma was present in some way, shape, or form, the most common being a teenage Ryuichi casually going about every day things. Pausing as another picture caught his eye; K removed it from behind the protective plastic and tilted it into the moonlight.

A sleepy –eyed teenage Sakano sat curled on a couch that looked identical to one K saw in the back of the recording studio Bad Luck used. However the couch was not the most interesting thing about this particular picture, but rather the other person occupying the couch with the black haired teenager. Ryuichi Sakuma, the pop star idol of many aspiring young musicians, was sitting with his arms thrown around the teen at his side. Not only was the legend holding tightly onto the young Sakano, but the look in eyes could only be described as possessive.

Part of his mind rebelled at the thoughts that suddenly flooded it. It was impossible. There was no way that the spastic producer and the legendary singer had known each other. _'It's impossible,' _K thought, now quickly searching the pages of the album, his disbelief growing larger and larger as more pictures began to pop up showing the two teens together.

'_Ryuichi is thirty-one. Nittle Grasper didn't hit the big leagues their first gig…They could have known each other. If they both sang…they could have known each other.'_

The American shoved the picture back into place and returned it to the box. He didn't want to wrap his head around this just yet. He could not picture the jittery Sakano ever even holding a conversation with Ryuichi Sakuma. Logically he knew that people changed over the years and that Sakano may have once been someone entirely different. Maybe the producer once had a spine, passion, a life unshaped by the president of a major music company. Those were just maybes, and from experience, K knew that you could not be sure of the truth with just a 'maybe'.

Getting up slowly from the floor, knees cracking as they unlocked, he fumbled in the darkness towards the only other occupied room. Pushing against the door, K eased it open silently and looked inside. On the bed he could see the outline of Sakano's body along with the steady rise and fall of his chest. The thin man was holding his sheets up by his chin, his glasses askew on his face, digging up into his hair on one side while the other pressed against the corner of his eye.

It came in a sudden rush to K that he knew next to nothing about the man sleeping peacefully on the rumpled bed. Sakano was a mystery. For all the American knew, the producer could very well have been involved with Ryuichi.

Leaning heavily in the doorway, he took his time to really look at his co-worker. The stress of the past few weeks was clearly reflected in the sleeping face. Dark circles shadowed the area below Sakano's eyes, and his cheeks looked sunken, along with the slope of his belly. The American knew on some level that he looked no better, in fact earlier this morning Shuichi had told him so when he had helped bring Hiro home. Shuichi had insisted on going along, wanting to make sure his friend was settled for the night.

He scratched the back of his neck slowly, blue eyes becoming unfocused. He could still hear Judy telling him that she was leaving. K hadn't really been listening when she said it, slumped over their kitchen table half-asleep from being up most of the night before.

A sudden movement on the bed caused K to snap out of his thoughts. Sakano had rolled over onto his side, one hand now fisting the sheets, a frown turning down the corners of his lips. The Japanese man opened his mouth as if he was speaking though he was still asleep and let out a wordless sigh. He continued to move for the next few minutes, turning slowly or suddenly, the small frown on his face varying in degree of intensity.

K looked at the sleeping man for a long while before hesitantly walking over to the bed, his halting steps muffled by the thick carpet under his feet. Reaching out, he picked up the corner of the blanket covering Sakano and pulled it up from where it had been kicked off, resting it across the man's shoulders.

The blonde pulled his hand back slowly and turned his back on the now calm sleeper. Tip-toeing from the room he settled himself back on the pulled out bed in the living room, pulling off his gun holster and shirt, letting them both fall down onto the stack of cushions from the couch at the bed's edge.

He lay awake after getting comfortable, watching moonbeams dim as they fell through the slats in the blinds. He forced himself to stop thinking about Judy, about Michael, about work and the sleeping producer in the next room. It was none of his business what the man had done years ago, that Sakano seemed dead and buried, and the man who had let him into his house was anything but the smiling teen in the photos from the album. Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, the American let out a tired yawn and surrendered to the sleep his body had craved every night for the past few weeks.

In what felt like only the blink of an eye, K suddenly found the room well lit by the sunlight streaming through the now open blinds. He could tell it was morning, and from the smell drifting from the kitchen he knew Sakano was up.

With a heavy sigh the blond pulled himself up and sat in bed, rubbing his eyes slowly. 'At this rate I'll die of sleep deprivation,' he thought, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips as he reached down over the side of the bed for his shirt. Pulling on the rumpled white button-down, he headed for the kitchen, leaning in the doorway for a moment as he watched Sakano stand in front of the stove poking as making miso soup.

"I'll never understand why the Japanese have soup in the morning."

Turning around, Sakano gave K an easy smile, "It's what I've had every morning since I was a little boy. Miso soup, rice, and some rolled omelets."

"And bento boxes for lunch?"

Turning back to the soup Sakano nodded. "Mother used to make me bento boxes all the time. She didn't trust the people in the school cafeteria to make good meals."

"My mom would give me a couple dollars and tell me to fend for myself," K replied, sitting down at the table where he fiddled with the empty bowls and plat in front of him.

Sakano took the steaming soup off the stove and quickly retrieved K's bowls. "Japanese breakfasts may seem odd to you, but American breakfasts are just as strange to me. Your people eat heated up things from your freezers. You stuff yourself sometimes and other times just drink coffee and go to work."

"The stuffing is why Americans are so hardy," the blond replied, pointing his spoon at Sakano as his soup was brought to him. "We eat lots of protein like ham and bacon in the morning. A couple eggs, some toast, a few sausages, maybe some hash browns and we're set until late in the afternoon. Big breakfasts, little lunches, and left overs for dinner. That's how it was in my house."

"Leftovers?"

"Sure, you know, the stuff you heat up in the microwave because you had it last ni-"

"I know what left overs are. I was asking why you ate them for dinner."

"My mom didn't like cooking so she just made a lot of food and served the left overs for dinner the next night."

Taking his seat, Sakano reach for his soup and carefully sipped at it once it cooled a little. A comfortable silence fell over the kitchen, the soft clink of chopsticks against bowls occasionally breathing some life into the still air. Sakano found that he enjoyed having a guest. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually wanted to get up in the morning and cook. Everyday going to work he only drank a cup of coffee before walking out the door in the morning; an actual meal was nice for once, even though his cooking skills were few and none that impressive. '_I should invest in a cook-book_.'

"Thinking about something?"

Dropping his chopsticks into his rice, Sakano snapped out of his thoughts. "No, not really."

"Not even about Ryuichi?"

"Ryuichi?" frowning, the black haired man gingerly picked up his chopsticks again.

Sighing, K leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, "You know, the singer? World famous music-genius who-"

"I know who Sakuma-san is, K-san. Why did you ask if I was thinking about him?"

The American nodded in the direction of the living room. Azure eyes fixed on the producer sitting across from him and K felt the strong urge to let the other know of his discovery. He wanted answers; he wanted to know why such a detail had been left out of the files given to him when he had taken on the job of being the star's manager.

Some things were best left buried though, and the blond chose to shrug and poke at his rice, "No reason."

Still confused, Sakano let the subject drop, resuming looking at his food as he ate. For a brief moment he had felt the old panic come back. It had been years since he had felt his heart rate surge like that while his mind grasped for straws. Even though he tended to go off the deep end every day, nothing compared to the feelings that rushed through him along with the shots of adrenaline that kept him shell-shocked afterwards. '_That was too close,_' the producer thought, bowing his head, '_Why would he ask something like that? Did sacho…? No, sacho wouldn't. He's not that cruel…_'

Sakano was relieved when the phone rang and broke the heavy silence. Scraping his chair back across the floor he hurried into the living room, murmuring a half-stuttered 'excuse me'. Pressing the talk button he brought the phone up to his ear without thinking, murmuring a raspy hello as he fought down his nerves.

K watched from the open kitchen for a minute before turning back to his food. Getting up he threw away what he hadn't eaten. '_Shit I didn't mean to say that. I didn't…Fuck, does he know I looked at that album? Is he angry?_' Glancing at Sakano out of the corner of his eye, the American took his seat again and whipped out his magnum, checking how many bullets he had left in it.

K looked up again when he heard the click of the phone in the cradle. He could tell that the slim producer was tense, the way he got when Tohma called him in for a meeting. Frowning slightly, the blond replaced his gun in its holster, getting up and cautiously entering the living room. "Hey," he called softly, "You okay, Mr. Producer?"

Snapping out of his daze, Sakano jumped and turned, putting on a nervous smile, "Oh, I'm fine. I'm sorry K-san, Seguchi-san just wanted to meet me in a few minutes. Please make yourself at home, I'll be back soon. You can use the shower and the television has plenty of channels for you to go through." As he talked, Sakano was hurrying to his room, quickly changing into one of his more formal business suits, the coal grey jacket hanging a little awkwardly on his body from his rapid weight loss.

All the while K stood in the empty main room listening to the Japanese man rattle on about the things K could do while he was gone. The manager barely had time to say goodbye as Sakano rushed out, still fixing his tie around his neck as the door slammed shut behind him.

Surprised by the sudden exit, K found himself listening to the ticking of the clock in the kitchen, straining his ears to hear it just so he could be doing something. Shrugging his shoulders as if to remove a weight from them he took his time to look around the apartment now that it was light outside and he wasn't under the influence of strong sake.

Everything was organized.

Nothing was out of place; every book on the shelf lined up alphabetically and by height, the television had wipe marks running across it horizontally, never vertically. The sparsely decorated walls all held pictures the same size and arranged so that they all sat at the same height.

There was no personality to the room. It was like looking into a department store showcase, there was no life to the space. Walking along the edges of the room, K took in every detail from every angle and found that he couldn't pick up any sign that this place belonged to someone, that it was lived in.

'_His address hasn't changed in years. It should look like someone has been living here._' Turning away from the living room the blond strode down the hall, pushing open the door to the black haired man's room and stepping in.

It was the same as the living room. Everything was in order except for the bed, which was still rumpled from Sakano's late night tossing and turning. Raising an eyebrow at the strange emptiness that permeated from the walls he reached for Sakano's nightstand, pulling open the drawer.

"Yatzee." Inside the simple wooden nightstand drawer lay a treasure trove of little knick knacks that finally gave a hint as to who Sakano was. There was a deck of playing cards thrown in the corner, held together by a rubber band, a few scattered pens and pencils, and a variety of books completely different than the ones he had seen out in the living room.

Picking up one of the paperbacks he thumbed through it, pausing at a dog eared page and reading some of the text:

'_Katsuya melted into the strong arms wrapped around his body, moaning softly as his hips ground forward in an attempt to ease the lust that raged through his veins. He no longer cared if it was right or wrong to want what his body had been craving ever since the day he had laid eyes on Mikado. Feeling calloused fingers stroke down his stomach to slip beneath the band of his pants, his breath hitched in his throat as he dug his nails into the man's shoulders. _

"_Mikado, don't tease me," he gasped. _

_A wolf-like grin spread across Mikado's face, "Oh but we're just getting started, love."_

Closing the book slowly, K whistled softly. He had never taken the spastic younger man to be the type to read porn, let alone gay porn. Tossing the book on the bed he continued to sift through the other novels tucked away in the nightstand, surprise growing by the minute as he found almost all of them were romance novels. The one buried at the very bottom stuck out the most for him though, and with hesitant hands he picked up the blue covered book. Opening to the front cover he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

In his hands, K was held an item many women would kill for, a signed book by Japan's famous romance novelist, Eiri Yuki. Not only that, but under the aloof author's signature was the familiar scrawl of Shuichi Shindou's handwriting.

'_Hey Sakano-san, I hope you like your present! I thought you might like an easy read to go through so I got you Yuki's newest book. Look I even got him to sign it! I'll see you at work on Monday. Try not to party too hard!'_

"I'll be damned," the blond said, closing the book. "I didn't know you two were that close." Putting everything back the way he had found it, the American deciding he would take Sakano up on the 'shower-offer'. He needed time to think about the few bits and pieces of information of what he had found, and a shower was the only thing he knew that would help him clear his head and organize his thoughts.

T.B.C.

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I'm sorry for the long delay; I have been working on another story that was more pressing to write at the time being. Updates will not be so far-spaced any longer. Thank you for reading and reviewing (if you do so). 


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to Antimatterannihilation and Self-Proclaimed Everything for reviewing, and for whoever has read up until this point.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own ****Gravitation****; I make no profit from this story.**

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Pressure

by R. M. Weiss

Chapter 3:

It was a fact that Sakano was the producer of Bad Luck. It was a fact that Sakano was high-strung most of the time. Was it a fact that Sakano had dated Ryuichi Sakuma? K still had his doubts. Standing under the spray of the showerhead he pressed his forehead against the pale blue tiles before him, one hand on the glass at his side. He closed his eyes against the sting of water droplets, fighting to breath through the thick steam.

Blindly reaching for the shampoo he had seen in the corner, he didn't bother to look and see if it had a scent or what brand it was. Judy had always gotten some sweet fruity kind that he had refused to use, and had often dumped down the sink in small doses in an attempt to get her to give up buying it.

K scraped his nails across his scalp as he worked the soapy liquid into his hair. With slow strokes he untangled knots and snarls, rinsing the golden locks slowly before shutting the water off. Towel drying his body and hair, he paused when he heard the click of the front door and unfamiliar footsteps on the hard-wood of the living room. Grabbing his gun off the sink shelf he wrapped his towel tightly around his waist and slowly edged out of the bathroom.

Pressed flat against the wall, he leaned just enough to get a good look around the wall into the living room. Blue eyes widened slightly as he saw who was standing by the bookcase he had browsed through the night before.

"Seguchi? What the hell?" he said, stepping away from the wall.

Dropping the book in his hands, Tohma whirled around, a hand flying to his chest. "K-san? What are you doing here?" he asked, recovering his composure. _'And where's Sakano?_' he thought, green eyes quickly sweeping past the American to check for signs of the producer.

Still holding his finger on the trigger of his magnum, K waved it through the air as if to brush off the question. "I was in the neighborhood last night and Sakano-san let me have a little sleep over party on his couch. That's doesn't explain why you're here though."

Tohma frowned, "Sakano and I have breakfast some weekends. Now, is this interrogation over?" Picking up the book he had dropped, the blonde brushed the cover off and then began to head towards Sakano's room, brushing past K in a hurry. His skin was crawling at the thought of finding Sakano in bed. If the American had done something to back Sakano into a corner to the point the producer had actually gone so far as to take him to bed, Tohma would fire the older blonde on the spot. Manager or not, it was still in Tohma's power to terminate K's job.

Pushing open the door to Sakano's room, the slim man paused when he saw that the rumpled bed was empty. "Where is he?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder at K who had run back to the bathroom and hastily thrown on his clothes.

Fixing his tie so it felt less like a hangman's noose, K tucked his gun away in its holster, "He's supposed to be in a meeting with you. You called an hour ago, didn't you?"

"An hour ago? No. Today is my day off. The last thing I want to do is talk business."

K was taken aback by the comment. Eyebrows knitting together he began to pull his hair back into its usual pony tail. "He said it was you when he hung up. Ran out the door like he always does when you call him."

Tohma shook his head, "No," he replied, "I left my cell phone at the house. I never made a call here."

"Then he….lied?"

Feeling himself nod, Tohma peeled off his velvet gloves and tucked them into the felt hat he had perched on his head. "It would appear that way." Moving past the American again, the slender man went towards the kitchen, feeling the sudden urge to get something to drink.

K felt the words hit him like ice water. '_Why would you lie?_' he asked silently as he glanced in the direction of the hidden photo album. Going over to the phone standing beside the couch, he picked up the receiver and began to scroll through the caller ID, having recognized the model as being the same as his own back in what had once been Judy and his apartment. Looking for the most recent entry he paused and set the phone back into its cradle as the word "UNKNOWN" flashed brightly on the tiny gray screen. It would have been too easy to get a number.

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he listened to Tohma rummage around in the kitchen, the other man's soft footsteps loud as thunder in the overly silent house. Moving to the bookcase, he bent down and retrieved the photo album before going into the kitchen and dropping it on the table in front of the other blonde. "When I signed on as Ryuichi Sakuma's manager I expected to know everything about his life before me. Now, Mr. President, would you like to explain why Sakano is getting cozy with a world-famous music star in some of these pictures?"

Tohma was startled by the sudden smack of the album hitting the table, and had half-risen from his seat in response. Looking up at K, he kept a small frown plastered on his face. He did not like that the American had discovered such a well-kept secret, and briefly considered telling him off before he recognized the fact that K would not let the matter rest unless he got answers. Flipping open the green book, Tohma sipped at his hastily made coffee, the dark brown liquid bitter on his tongue and warm down his throat.

Pulling to the side the plastic that covered a glossy photo, he held the picture between two fingers. He remembered when he had snapped the photo. It had been in the middle of summer, school had let out early because of the threat of a storm. He had been walking with Sakano towards the local park when out of no where Ryuichi had pounced on him from behind. Being smaller and lighter than the other boy, Tohma had gone sprawling on the ground, a shocked Sakano easily getting flustered as he asked if Tohma was hurt, if he needed to get to clinic.

At that exact moment, Ryuichi had noticed the black haired teen Tohma had befriended in class years ago. Looking between the two, the blonde had known there was an attraction, and when he had convinced them that he was fine he had shoved them both together and gotten his camera out of his back-pack, ordering them to stand together and pose.

Ryuichi, never one to be shy or to disappoint, had simply leaned over and planted a kiss on a blushing Sakano's cheek just as the shutter on the camera closed.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Tohma tapped the photo against the table for now, coming back to the present long enough to gesture at the chair next to him before reaching for another picture.

"Have you asked Sakano about these?" he said as long last, closing the heavy book. Green eyes fixed on blue ones as the president of N-G shed his jacket.

Folding his hands on the table, K glanced at the album, "No. I was going to….but then he got that phone call and left."

"It really isn't my place to tell you, K-san."

"I want to know."

"You sound like a jilted lover."

This time it was K's turn to be surprised, and it took him a moment to realize that Tohma was simply joking with him, a rare event. Even stranger though, the American got the distinct feeling that the keyboardist wasn't that far off the mark. He had rarely found himself so agitated over something as simple as a secret, and never before had he made it into a big deal when some sort of scandal, real or fake, had popped up in his life or at his work.

'_A jilted lover, huh? Maybe that's what you could call it. Producers and Managers should be teams…the analogy isn't that fare fetched_.' Crossing his long legs under the table, K tapped his fingers against the album. "I don't know him well enough to ask these kinds of things. You on the other hand…."

"You know me better," Tohma finished. Folding his arms across his skinny chest, the Japanese man idly tapped his foot on the floor. "I can't tell you anything, though, K-san. I don't know much more about it than you do. Sakano was always private, and Ryuichi was never someone to kiss-and-tell."

"But you know something. You took some of these pictures. Didn't you?"

"Of course I did. I was the only other person who knew about them. Ryuichi didn't tell Noriko about it, and Sakano would never have done anything to jeopardize Ryuichi's career."

"Then I-"

Like a bomb doing off, the front door of the apartment swung open, and the haggard looking producer stepped inside, toeing off his shoes. Forgetting that he had a guest, he began to pull off his tie and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt until he caught the scent of coffee in the air. Looking up, Sakano paled slightly as he saw Tohma and K sitting at his kitchen table. "S-Sacho! What are you…? When did you arrive? Can I get you anything?"

Straightening his messy appearance, Sakano all but ran into the kitchen and went for his refrigerator, digging for something in it to put out on the table as a snack.

"K says you went to go meet me?"

The black haired man froze at the words, his eyes widening behind his steamed glasses. "S-sacho?"

"Your business is your own, and I'll respect that….but as your employer, I find that it's a problem if you can't communicate with someone who is supposed to be your partner. K-san is the manager of Bad Luck and you are the producer, Sakano, you need to work as a team if you want Shindou, Nakano, and Fujisaki to succeed."

"Y-Yes sir…."

Looking at Sakano's tense frame, K felt his jaw set. He had not told Tohma what had happened so the younger blonde could verbally thrash the already worn-out producer. He watched Sakano straighten up from the refrigerator and bow to Tohma, apologizing profusely. It was so similar to work, and yet K could tell something was different. There was a tenseness in the producer's shoulders, as if he wasn't truly sorry, as if he could justify his actions and was almost annoyed at being accused of not working with K.

'_It's not my business to interfere,_' the American thought as he trailed his eyes down to Sakano's loosely clenched hands. He didn't bother to listen to what Tohma said to Sakano, simply reading the reactions of Sakano's body to the president's words. '_Maybe you aren't as whipped as I thought you were._'

Feeling K's eyes on him, Sakano glanced up at the American, brown eyes holding slight confusion as he noticed the book in front of the blonde. Blinking slowly, it took him a moment to realize just what the thick album was, and when he did, any color that had been in his face had drained away. "W-Where did you find that?" he asked, cutting Tohma off.

K was surprised by the sudden question and it took him a moment to process the words. Touching the cover of the photo album he wet his lips, which had suddenly dried. "I found it last night," he said after a minute, eyes meeting with those of the dark haired man.

Feeling the secrets he had kept so carefully under lock and key begin to edge out into the open, Sakano let his eyes slide close as he slumped back against the appliance behind him. '_It would have been too good to be true for him never to find out…..Ryuichi, I'm sorry…'_ he thought.

Seeing the man's distress, Tohma moved to go and rest a hand on his shoulder. "Sakano, please don't do anything rash. I can add in a clause to K-san's contract. I can-"

"No."

Pausing, the thirty-two year old saw a slightly tremor run through his employee's shoulders.

Sakano took a deep breath as he heard the approaching footsteps of his sacho stop. Turning chocolate eyes on K, he took his time to study the American who had just turned his world upside down. There was no use trying to hide anything now, and Sakano swallowed hard past the lump forming in his throat to fight off the nausea that rolled in his stomach.

Moving away from the stainless steel refrigerator, the black haired producer reached out for the photo album, taking it into his hands and hesitantly opening the front cover. Staring down at an old picture, he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Sacho…if K-san and I are going to work together…then he should know."

Noting the strange calm in Sakano's voice, Tohma nodded only after mulling over ever possible outcome in a few short minutes. "I agree. I'll leave you to it, then." Pulling his coat back on, the lithe blonde made quick work of fixing his appearance before excusing himself, ghosting out of the house almost as quietly as he had come in.

Left alone with the American, Sakano wished he hadn't said anything. He wished he had stayed out longer or gotten hit by a car on his way back to his apartment. Anything would be more pleasant than explaining the part of his past that involved Ryuichi. Loosening his tie with one hand, he slowly took a seat in the chair vacated by the keyboardist for Nittle Grasper.

"Can I have a minute….to myself?" he asked, voice strained.

Without a word, K got up from his chair and left the kitchen, only pausing long enough to rest his hand on the producer's shoulder. As he entered the living room, he glanced at the clock ticking away by the phone. He was about to get his answers.

TBC…

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Thank you for reading this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to Self-Proclaimed Everything, RomanceNovelistYuki4563, and mystice for reviewing.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own ****Gravitation****; I make no profit from this story.**

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Pressure  
by R. M. Weiss

Chapter 4:

"This is going to….take a while, please make yourself comfortable," Sakano sighed softly, having come to the archway leading into the kitchen. He did not look up to see K's eyes, his stomach tied in knots as he felt the man stare at him. If he had known the American would find his old album, he would have taken better care to hide it. It was no use now as the blonde took a seat at the table, his elbows leaning on the surface, head in hands.

Grabbing the cover of the photo album that lay innocently in front of K, the producer flipped it open to the fifth page, his fingers grazing over a glossy photo. He couldn't clearly remember the day it was taken or who had taken it. A man and a woman smiled gently up from the faded photo, the man dressed in a neatly tailored suit, the woman wearing a traditional kimono.

"These are my parents," he said, handing the picture over. "My father was the head of a large electronics company based in Nagoya. My mother was the owner of a tea house he frequented. They married quickly, and after four years together they had me. We moved a lot, my father always shifting is business around, opening new branches. We lived in Kobe, then Osaka, Yokohama, and then Tokyo."

K took the picture from the producer's loose grasp. He stared hard at the faces in front of him, looking for features that Sakano had inherited. The producer had gotten his father's eyes, as well as the man's skinny build, but his mother's nose and lips.

The Japanese man watched the American for a moment as he studied the photo. Taking another deep breath, Sakano closed his eyes and thought back to his years as a child. "They were very good parents. I grew up surrounded by as much culture as they could shove at me. My mother's father's side of the family was descended from a line of kabuki actors. She always thought it was important I learn about Japan's history, both the good and the bad parts."

Flipping a page in the photo album, the producer took out another picture and handed it to K. This one was a simple picture of a young boy standing beside a slightly older blonde. They were smiling and waving at the camera. "I met my first real friend in Yokohama. I had just moved there, and he was the first person to talk to me in school. He looked out for me. I never made many friends in the other cities because of the constant moving. We drifted apart when I moved again about a year after settling in Yokohama.

"My mother was against moving into Tokyo. She wanted to bring me back to Osaka or Kobe. My father had his reasons for keeping us away from those places. We lived in Tokyo for three years. My father's business was doing extremely well, leading the stock prices. One day he went out with my mother to get groceries and they never came back."

K looked up from the photos in his hands. He could see Sakano's shoulder's shaking, the producer having slumped into the wooden chair across from him. The American leaned forward in his seat. Never having been good at comforting people, he hesitantly reached a hand out to clap Sakano on the shoulder.

"They were in an accident," the producer said in a shaking voice. His glasses had fogged up, and he took them off so he could wipe them against the hem of his shirt. Pocketing the lenses, he swallowed hard. It had been years since had had spoken about the accident. Burying the pain deep inside, Sakano had shoved the very thought of that night out of all this thoughts. It only came to him when he lay alone in bed, or when he heard the screech of tires outside his apartment. He knew that if he closed his eyes now he would be able to smell the antiseptic of hospital sheets. With a deep breath the producer steadied himself. He did not mind the hand on his shoulder, and focused on it as he fought to calm his mind. The next part of his story would be tricky, and he would have to play his cards close to his chest.

"I moved here after everything was cleared up. I didn't want to live with my either of my parents families. I won emancipation for myself and from there….the rest is history. I met Tohma on the subway, I spilled coffee on him. It was before Nittle Grasper had a record deal. I had a band of my own at the time…just a few school mates that were good with their instruments. I was a singer….Tohma and I were heading to the same club that day to perform. That's how I met Sakuma-san. He stuck around after the show to see me. He said he liked my voice. We started meeting up regularly after that. Soon enough it turned into a relationship. Tohma was in full support of it right until the day we broke up. He thought we were making a mistake.

"But I knew it was right…I was holding Ryuichi back by being there. The week after we ended it, Nittle Grasper got its record deal. They became famous. Tohma started his own company. He hired me even before it was opened. Since then I've only worked at NG."

K sat quietly after the producer had finished speaking. Sakano's voice had been brisk and businesslike, as if he was explaining Bad Luck's record sales. This was the most Sakano had ever spoken to him in one sitting. In fact, he had probably spoken more now than the total of words he had ever exchanged with the American.

He took his hand from the other man's shoulder, scraping his chair back across the linoleum floor as he made to stand. Going to cabinets above the sink, he pulled down a glass and filled it with water, handing it to the producer who accepted it with shaking hands.

Sakano was grateful for the water. His mouth had long since run dry. He was never good at lying. _'It's a half-truth. Not real lying_,' he thought, sipping the water slowly. '_It'll have to be enough_.'

The ringing of his phone was what shattered the silence that had fallen over them. In the impersonal apartment it echoed off the walls in a loud series of musical beeps. Sakano excused himself with a quiet word, hurrying into the living room to pick up the receiver.

K was left to think about what the man had told him. '_An orphan…and then a friend to Tohma. He's lived a very Hollywood-esque life._' Straining his ears to hear Sakano's conversation in the living room, the American shifted around in his chair once more. He slipped the uncovered photo back into the heavy album it had been taken from, carefully arranging it so that it sat neatly in its little pocket under the thick plastic.

Briefly he heard Sakano's voice raise over the phone, the man sounding both flustered and slightly annoyed. He could not make out the muffled words, or even begin to fathom what had drawn his host away at such a strange time of the afternoon. '_Who calls at one fifty-seven? Telemarketers?_'

Sakano came back only a handful of minutes later, his eyes never once glancing up from the floor to look at the American. If he looked up, let himself even glimpse those bright blue eyes, his little half-truths would be exposed for what they were. He could not let that happen. Not now, and not ever. Some secrets are never meant to be told.

"Some of the sound technicians at NG called just now. They were going through Bad Luck's recording and they found…a number of errors," he said in a subdued voice. "They want us to come in."

"Shit, what do they mean by 'errors'?"

"I'm not sure. They said we should come listen to it….Should I call Shuichi?"

Shaking his head, K rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a noisy sigh. They had worked all week on that recording, he had kept Bad Luck in the studio for hours on end with only enough time during breaks to go take a piss, grab a snack, and then run back to the booth. Nothing had been wrong when he left. He had listened to that recording five times before he had even ventured anywhere near Sakano's home the night before. "Let the kid sleep in," he said, "He's going to need to be well rested. If we have to, we'll do another recording tonight."

Already Sakano felt another headache assault him at the very thought of having to spend another night in the studio. He could only hear the same song so many times in twenty-four hours, let alone all of the previous week, before it started to drive him mad.

"Let me get a jacket," the producer said at long last. He was ready to go with in minutes, and K was quick to follow suit, the blonde haired man pulling on his gun holster which he had dumped on the floor mid-way through Sakano's personal history lesson.

They left the apartment together, keeping pace with each other the entire way to the elevator. The air was tense with unspoken words, and it made the back of Sakano's neck break out into a cold sweat while K felt a churning in his gut that hadn't been there before.

The sun shone brightly, not a single cloud obscuring its rays. K took the lead when they stepped outside. "My car's here," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the line of cars parked across the street.

"You drove?"

"This place isn't that far from NG. There was some construction going on though."

"They're rebuilding the tunnel. There's been tiles falling from the ceiling and causing a few minor accidents."

Sliding into the driver's seat of his car, the blonde 'hm'-ed softly and turned the key in the ignition. The second Sakano's door closed, K pulled out of the spot he had claimed the night before. It had been sheer luck that had gotten him the space. He hadn't even had to shoot at anyone to get them to back away from it.

He turned on the CD player in the car with the push of a button. Through the speakers filtered the soft strumming of a guitar. "You mind?" he asked, glancing at the producer who was looking out the window as they drove.

Sakano closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. The guitar was soothing on his frayed nerves, and though he could only understand a little of the song being sung, he had to admit that he enjoyed it. "It's different," he said at long last, "is it an American song?"

"Yeah. An Oldie. It was only of the songs my mother listened to. Country music was her poison of choice."

"What was yours?"

With a grin, K pulled his sunglasses off the shade visor above his head and slipped them on. "Rock. The way it was when it first came out, the new things the kiddies listen to isn't really my style. What about you? Classical? Opera? You're one of those quirky guys who listen to stuff like that, aren't you?"

Sakano chuckled and turned to the blonde, "Don't go pigeon holing me. I liked techno. A little traditional music, but mostly techno."

"So you're like Shuichi then?"

"At one time…maybe. Now I'm just a producer living in an apartment with a cactus for a pet."

"You own a cactus?" K asked, raising a brow.

"It's in my room. It gets the best light there," the dark haired man replied. He didn't know why he was telling the American about his "pet" cactus, it wasn't as if anyone would particularly care about it. He talked only to fill up their time in the car. He had never liked long periods of silence. When things were silent he could think, and when he thought, his mind always drifted back to that day so many years ago when his world was turned upside down.

There were still so many things he had to keep hidden from his co-worker, his boss, and the band he was in charge of. He only hoped that he would be able to do so should they ever catch wind of the elaborate lie he had woven.

TBC...

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Sorry for the long wait. Between school work, vacation, and prior commitments to others I was only able to just finish this chapter. Thank you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I d****o not own Gravitation; I make no profit from this story.**

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Pressure  
by R. M. Weiss

Chapter 5:

"I don't understand how this could happen. Everything was fine last night. Everything was saved and stored and—what am I going to tell the president?"

Sakano's shrill voice rang out above the din of the gathered onlookers outside the recording room. Employees from around the company had hurried over when they heard about the "accident". Somehow the data on all of the recordings that Bad Luck had done the night before had vanished, even the hard copies were no where to be found. All that was left in their place was a tape, crackling with white noise for ten minutes before very suddenly clicking off.

The band was being called in as the producer slumped over the provided table, covering his head with his arms. "All our work," he murmured, "all of it…"

A frown tugged at K's lips as he watched Sakano pull at his hair in frustration. '_I'm sure I locked this place up last night. I know I did. No one could've gotten in here without a key._' Reaching into his pocket he felt for his key chain, fingers closing over the cool metal the second they brushed it. The American let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'll call the kid," he whispered, touching Sakano's shoulder. "We're going to have to start from square one. Think you can handle Tohma?"

The producer loosened the death grip he had on his hair. Already his head was pounding from the tension and stress of spending five minutes of listening to the list of problems rattled off by the employee who had discovered the disappearance. Slowly he straightened up and fixed his glasses. "Of course. L-let me get that tape." Going into the sound booth he picked up the little handheld recorder that held the white noise tape. He pocketed the device quickly, careful not to hit any buttons that might cause it to record over what was already on the tape.

Like a man condemned to death the producer left the room. He counted the tiles of the floor as he walked, each number feeling like another nail in his coffin. 'Sacho, you trusted me with Bad Luck. How could I have let you down like this? How?' When Sakano looked up he was in front of Tohma's office, his hand already resting on the doorknob to push it open. "Excuse me," he called before entering, polite to a fault as always.

The first thing Sakano noticed was that Tohma was not at his desk. In fact the blonde's desk was tipped over, drawers hanging out, some even on the floor. Papers were everywhere, spilling out of their folders. The painting covering the wall safe lay punctured against a crashed filing cabinet. The floor lamp next to the easy chair had been rammed into the safe and was nearly bent in half from the force of the blows. On the floor, mixed with spilled coffee ground and water, was the bouquet of ume blossoms, otometsubaki, bells of Ireland, and pink chrysanthemums (1) he had brought in the day before.

"Tohma?" he whispered, and then upon not seeing the blonde, yelled, "TOHMA?"

"I'm here."

Whirling around, Sakano stared at his long time boss and friend who had been behind the door to the office holding the heavy phone from his desk, prepared to use it as a weapon.

"Sacho—"

"For a minute I thought I was going to have to bludgeon somebody. I come in late and I find my office torn apart and no one at their usual stations...I thought there was some kind of threat made against the building and I was the only one who didn't know about it."

Sakano reached out and took the phone from his boss. Grabbing Tohma's elbow with his free hand he helped him get over a wide fallen filing cabinet. The tape recording in his pocket was all but forgotten. Going over to the desk, Sakano righted the upturned executive chair and dusted it off. Briefly he toyed with the idea of trying to fix the desk as well. Reaching for the corner he was stopped by a hand on his arm, the grip surprisingly tight.

Tohma shook his head silently before releasing the producer. He didn't so much sit down in his chair as he fell into it. "You'll break your back if you try and pick that up."

"I was only going-"

"It's not worth bothering with," the blonde said, eyes closing as he smiled.

Sakano knew better than anyone what that smile meant. Taking a step away from the desk the producer bowed politely.

"Was there something you came here to tell me?"

Looking up, the brunette finally remembered the recorder stuffed into his pocket. He handed it over to Tohma quickly before bowing again, "This was in the recording booth right where Bad Luck's recording from yesterday should have been. K said that the lock wasn't picked. He thinks someone with a key tried to sabotage Shindou-kun."

Blue eyes opened slowly and Tohma gazed around his destroyed office. His fingers formed a steeple as he leaned forward onto his knees. "Does anyone else know this?"

"No, sacho."

"Keep it that way. At least until we gather some probably suspects. In the mean time…." Tohma's voice trailed off and one hand fluttered like a dying bird in the general direction of his office.

"In the mean time?" Sakano prompted.

"Bring in more security. If whoever did this can tear up my office and still have time to steal recordings then we're not dealing with a simple robbery. I want twenty-four hour surveillance on all exits. And Sakano?"

The producer paused as he made to dig out his cell phone.

"Go home with Shindou-kun tonight. Make him convince Eiri to hire a guard."

Sakano nodded quickly and bowed deeply once again, "Yes, sacho."

Tohma took a moment to look the other over. Baby blue eyes followed the seam on the back of Sakano's jacket, the traced the wrinkles by his shoulders. Black hair had been finger combed it seemed, and yet the producer still had managed to look his part. The blonde closed his eyes and tried to freeze the afterimage of his friend in his mind. Yes, Sakano was everything anyone could want in an employee. Always on time, always producing work above the average caliber, his dress matching regulations, his form when bowed—perfect.

"You can go" the blonde murmured after a minute, his hands coming up to thread through his hair as his chin fell to his chest. Already his mind had moved to how much cleaning up he was going to have to do for his office to look at least somewhat like I used to.

Sakano was gone when he looked up. Staring at the space where the brunette had been only moments before, Tohma blinked his eyes once, twice, to recall the mental picture he had taken. A deep breath rushed from his lungs before his hand began feeling around for his coat pocket. He'd have to call Mika. He doubted he'd be home for dinner tonight.

Back down in the recording booth, Sakano was doing everything he could to calm Shuichi, the pink haired pop star having arrived in a matter of minutes after K's phone call, bursting into the recording studio past Hiro who had been in the area when K had called him.

"Suguru will be here when school lets out. The principal won't let him go until then," the American said, dropping his cell phone onto the table in aggravation. He didn't see how this didn't count as an emergency. It was the boy's career being talked about. It wasn't as if K was trying to pull him out of class to go play hooky.

"All our work…I can't believe it," Shuichi whispered as he lay slumped over the table, his hands buried in his hair as fists. "We spent three weeks trying to just get the first song right. It took us two months to get the first half of them done…"

"We still have some of the files backed up on the computer, Shindou-kun," Sakano murmured, placing a gentle hand on the singer's back. "We can record again and edit them together. We could push the release date too if we have to."

"No. The CD goes out as planned."

Everyone in the room turned to look at the American manager who stood over the keyboard of the computer that helped with the recording sessions. The track lighting above him flickered briefly as he touched a few of the keys and woke up the computer, the hum filling the room. "The CD goes out as planned," he said again, "because we will get those recordings back in time."

"K-san finding them is nearly impossible." Sakano sunk down into a chair next to Shuichi.

The blonde held up a finger in the air for silence. Never once did his eyes stray from the computer screen. "Nothing's impossible. We're going to get to the bottom of this. I want answers and I'm going to get them."

From his spot at the table Shuichi let out a heavy sigh and buried his head in his arms. To his left, Sakano closed his eyes in resignation. Somehow he had a feeling this was going to be a very long day.

TBC...

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Please excuse the extremely long wait on this chapter. School work takes priority in my life so I had to put my writing aside for a number of months. Now that the majority of things are out of the way I will resume updating on a more frequent schedule. Thank you for reading this chapter of Pressure

(1) ume blossoms – means: nobel/high-mindedness, perseverance, refined

Otometsubaki – the maiden pink camellia; means: charm

Bells of Ireland – means: Good luck

Chrysanthemums – if not red, white, or yellow they mean "cheerfulness" or dd "you're a wonderful friend."


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